


if you want

by professortennant



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 23:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: "Jean, I know I am not an easy man to be with and you're right. I don't care about propriety or social structure. I never have. But," he swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing larger with each word and his eyes stinging with tears. "But it is important to you. Very important."





	1. if you want

They returned home from their evening date-their first ever romantic appearance in public-with the mood between them decidedly dampened. He removed her coat and murmured Yes to her inquiry of tea.

A murder will naturally dampen an atmosphere, but this was more than that.

Despite their agreement to keep the engagement quiet between them, Lucien couldn't help but feel that the secret was really no secret at all and that all of Ballarat knew. What was there to hide?

Yet, Jean was restless at dinner. She hadn't worn the engagement ring again and had pulled her hand out from under his, apparently uneasy about displaying their joined hands on top of the dinner table. She had constantly been flicking her eyes over to the small group of women sitting in the corner, watching the two of them and gossiping behind folded hands.

Jean didn't even let Lucien hold her hand on the way to car, instead preferring to walk briskly ahead of him, avoiding his eyes.

Perhaps as individual actions, Lucien could ignore them. But each gesture was felt like a stinging nettle against his heart and he was suddenly thinking back to every moment between them since Mei Lin had left.

The way she broke off from his kisses. The way she twisted the ring on her finger over and over again before taking it off, hiding her hand behind her back. Her insistence they keep things quiet between them.

A heavy weight had settled in Lucien's stomach and, with a deep breath, he sought her out in the kitchen where she was putting on the kettle for some tea before bed.

"Jean, I think we should talk."

She turned to face him, eyebrows raised and the tea tray in her hands. Her bare finger was still a punch to the gut. He took the tray from her and placed it on the table.

"What's wrong, Lucien?"

He laughed, humorlessly. "Actually, that's what I was going to ask you. You seemed uneasy at dinner tonight. Well, tonight especially, but also in the last few weeks. Is everything alright?"

Jean looked down and smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her dress. "I'm fine, Lucien. Really."

But he wasn't swayed. "Jean..."

His tone-both warning and pleading-seemed to break some dam of emotion inside her. She glared at him, hands clenched at her side.

"You don't understand, Lucien. It's all well and good for you! You don't give a damn about propriety or the social structure of this town. You don't have to hear the biddies in town gossiping behind your back every time you step out of the house. You don't have to bear the burden of God and the Church's judgment on your shoulders. Your reputation isn't the one suffering."

She stepped forward, hands on her hips and tears in her eyes. "But I do! I am the one they call loose. I am the one they call fallen." Jean broke her tirade with a sob, hand coming up to cover her mouth, and turning away from him.

Lucien felt as if his heart had sunk to the bottom of his stomach. "Jean, I had no idea." Then, with a heavy heart, the words almost sticking in his throat, Lucien offered her a solution: an out.

"Jean, I know I am not an easy man to be with and you're right. I don't care about propriety or social structure. I never have. But," he swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing larger with each word and his eyes stinging with tears. "But it is important to you. Very important. And, if it's too much to be with me, to bear those burdens, then, then," he trailed off, steeling himself.

"Then if you want, we can end our engagement. We can go back to how it used to be; you could even move out, if you wanted."

His words hung in the air and Lucien closed his eyes, scared she would take him up on his offer. Jean was the love of his life, a light in the dark, and his North Star-guiding him home. If he lost her now, he would be lost himself.

He waited for her to vehemently deny his offer, promise him that she would never give up their love, that she couldn't imagine ever returning to the way they were.

But the silence permeated the room, their breathing the only sound. Lucien felt his hands go sweaty and his chest flood with warmth and tightness-the beginnings of a breaking heart.

He swallowed hard, willing the tears in his eyes to dissipate, and looked at Jean. She stood before him, face pale and mouth open, but unspeaking.

He nodded, resigned. "Right, then...I'll just..."

But the urge to leave, to get out before he could scream or cry or both, was building. He needed a drink. He needed to get away, to be alone, to protect what was left of his heart.

He turned on his heel and fled to his study, leaving Jean behind in the kitchen with nothing more than a rapidly-cooling pot of a tea and the sound of his study door clicking softly shut.

What had she done?


	2. make this right

Jean stood in the kitchen, alone. How had the night gone so wrong so fast? Lucien's words rang in her ears: If you want, we can end our engagement here. We can go back to how it used to be...

With a broken sob, Jean collapsed into the kitchen chair, eyes stinging with tears. She covered her mouth with her hand, taking deep breaths. Her mind raced as she frantically replayed every action and tried to see it through his eyes.

Not wearing the engagement ring. Pulling away at any overly amorous advances. Not holding his hand or taking his arm in public. Insisting on the clandestine nature of their relationship.

She closed her eyes, heart heavy, and wiped at the last few tears rolling down her cheeks. She could see it now: every action slowly chipping away at him, sowing doubt within his heart.

And tonight, at the moment she was meant to reassure him how silly he was, how much she loved him, she had been struck mute.

She needed to fix this. Now.

Jean wiped at her cheeks and took deep, steading breaths before standing and clearing away the now-cold tea, forming a plan. She would march right into his study and knock sense into him. Tell him how much she loved him, that she could never be ashamed of him, that she would never choose her reputation over him.

She dried her hands on the tea towel and felt her bare ring finger, rubbing at the place where his ring should sit.

With a determined turn of her heel, Jean headed for his study, turning the handle, intending to barge in. She wouldn't let him hide behind this damn door.

But the door didn't move.

He had locked it.

Locked it against her.

No matter where they had stood, he had never, never, locked this door against her. She felt her heart pick up its beat. How could she tell him how wrong he was when he wouldn't let her in?

Leaning her forehead against the door, Jean knocked gently. "Lucien, please, let me explain." No answer. She wrapped her knuckles on the door again, more insistently. "Please, Lucien."

She heard the clink of glass and movement beyond the door, but the door remained locked.

"I'll stay out here all night, if I need to. You need to let me explain, please."

Perhaps it was the urgency in her voice, perhaps it was the kick at the door she added for good measure, but finally the lock clicked and the door swung open.

Lucien stood in the doorway, eyes rimmed red, and a glass of scotch in his hand. He smiled at her and gave her a little bow, "Mrs. Beazley."

She felt the sting of that name as if he had slapped her. She had long stopped being 'Mrs. Beazley' to him many months ago. In fact, she herself had stopped thinking of herself as Mrs. Beazley; instead preferring to imagine the day she would be addressed as Mrs. Blake.

Jean shook her head at him and said softly, "Don't do that."

Lucien laughed, but the sound was hollow and forced. "But that's what you want, isn't it? You are Mrs. Beazley, the housekeeper, and nothing every happened between us. Nothing."

He turned away from her, draining the last remnants of his glass, before stumbling to the bar and refilling. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Are you drunk?"

Taking his full glass over to his desk, he collapsed in his chair, spilling a bit of scotch onto his trousers. "Indeed, I am!"

"You've only been in here for thirty minutes!"

Lucien shrugged, taking another sip. "Drinking is just about the only thing I'm good at Jean." Another sip. "Not a good son. Not a good father. Definitely not a good husband." He relaxed back into the chair, arms spread wide. "I can see why you don't want to be married to me, Jean. I'm a failure of a man and you," he looked at her, eyes shining. "You deserve much better. I've always known it."

He shrugged and took another sip, wincing at the burn. "I guess I was always waiting for you to realize it. And you have so," he finished with a shrug. "That's that."

Jean stood before him, heart racing and heart breaking. How could he think this of himself?

She walked over to him and took the glass from him, hushing his protest, then perched herself on the edge of his desk and took his hands in hers. Be brave, Jean, she thought.

"Lucien, I don't want to be separated from you. That's the last thing I want." She saw him open his mouth to argue but she leaned over and put her fingers over his lips. "You've said your bit, now let me say mine."

He nodded wordlessly against her fingers, eyes downcast.

"I love you, Lucien Blake. I know we don't say it enough and I know I don't always show you, but I do. So much." She swallowed, thinking over her words carefully. "Your suggestion that we end our engagement surprised me. That's why I didn't say anything. And I didn't know I was hurting you all this time. It just all came out at once and I was still processing."

Absentmindedly, she began rubbing small circles on the back of his hand and continued, "You're right. My reputation in town matters to me. Maybe it shouldn't, but it does. And being engaged to you causes talk. When I don't wear my engagement ring, I don't do it to hurt you and I don't do it because I'm ashamed of you. I do it to protect us-to protect me. But I promise, you are more important than what any doddering old biddy has to say about us."

She slid from the edge of the desk into his lap, pleased when he wrapped his arms around her waist instead of pushing her away. She stroked his hair and pressed a kiss to his temple.

"Jean..."

She hushed him. "I'm not done telling you off, yet." Another kiss to his temple and she took the tightening of his arms around her as a sign to continue.

"I promise, I will wear your ring with pride every day. I promise to take your hand each time you reach for me. I promise to kiss you more often and to trust in you. I promise to-"

But she was cut off by his kiss and she started, surprised, before pressing her lips back against his. He pulled away, smiling happily. "Just checking you're still keeping your promise."

She rolled her eyes at him and smoothed her hand over his hair and watched as he closed his eyes and nuzzled into her touch. My sweet, broken man.

She had spent so much time hung up on her own insecurities she hadn't stopped to think of his own. His words from earlier came back to her: A failure of a son. A failure of a father. A failure of a husband.

Jean took his head in her hands and forced him to look at her. This was too important for him to miss. "You are not a failure, Lucien." He dropped his eyes from hers but she ducked down, determined to maintain eye contact. "Listen to me, sweetheart. Your father would be so proud of the man you are. You did the best you possibly could with Li. And what of the way you acted as father for Danny? For Mattie? Even Charlie?"

She watched as his cheeks flushed with her praise and she made a promise to herself to tell him more often how amazing she thought him.

Jean stroked her thumb over his cheek and continued, "And I am going to be so, so proud to call you husband."

That seemed to be too much for Lucien. He surged against her, pulling her against him and slotting his mouth over hers, greedily kissing her. His hands clutched at her and she sighed against him.

He broke the kiss and leaned against her, pulling her more firmly against him as he leaned back in the chair. They sat in his study's chair, cuddling closely, and exchanging gentle touches for a few minutes more.

"Lucien?"

He hummed against her in answer, eyes still closed and savoring the feel of her against him.

"Don't ever lock this door to me again."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, vowing to himself no more secrets, no more walls between them, no more miscommunications.

"Never again, love."


End file.
